Flight of Death
by elel88
Summary: Harry is roasting marshmallows, receives a visitor and has strange dreams which he doesn't think about right away. Might be the start of a most likely unfinished series. I need a little muse. Anyone care to share theirs?
1. Default Chapter

A/N: This might be a series, depending if I have enough inspiration to go on... 

Disclaimer: I own nothing. 

Flight of Death- Prologue

It was night, the kind of night where you just wanted to curl up by the fire and roast marshmallows over the flames. The kind of night where you could be entranced by the fire for hours, just watching the colors. 

Outside, the night was like light shining through pin pricks on a blue-black paper; the moon was a crescent shaped cutout. The trees were thin lines of black paint that made lacy patterns on the blue-black paper and all of it was serenely still. 

Harry was doing just that, roasting marahmallows so ineffectively that when he remembered to pull them out, they were completely black and flames rose out of it. He kept on staring at the fire unblinking though his eyes were dry and hot, he never pulled his head away. The wizarding radio was playing though he wasn't really listening to it, it seemed to go in one ear and out the next. It was all the same. 

The rise of Voldemort was swift and silent. The fool Fudge had left the dementors to protect Azkaban, and as Dumbledore has predicted, they had left to join the Dark Lord. There had been an account of it in the Daily Prophet, a scathing article on Fudge's credibility. Now he was a enemy in his own home. A council of the department heads now governed the ministry and left Fudge for the public to rip apart to shreds. 

They had managed somehow to keep it from the Muggles, but how long could they keep it up? 

Harry was thinking none of this, his mind was wandering here and there, stopping every few times or so to think. 

"...news of more killings near Hogsmeade. Three children were totured to death, a fourth victim of Avada Kedavra. Officials are investigating the incident, it seems so far to be You-Know-Who related. This and other stories coming up, now lets go to Anthony Winterborne for the weather for-" 

_Click._ Harry turned the radio off and continued to stare at the fire. His eyelids drooped, still scorched by the heat of the flames. A grey fog was rising in his mind and... __

Lupin was standing by a gate, looking sad. he didn't seem to be earthly, his arms were columns of smoke and his eyes were bottomless holes of light. The rest of his body was translucent, you could see a faint beating. The area at where he was looking wasn't familiar yet at the same time it was. The moon was bright and full and before his eyes, Remus Lupin disentegrated. It happened quickly until all that was left was a pile of ashes. The ashes swirled and was carried upward by an immediate wind but the specks were clearly visible against the sky. 

Now, another man came in, looking satisfied. He wasn't ghostly but he had Lupin's eyes and his hair. But his mouth was different, it showed different emotions as if the mouth was the way to the soul, not the eyes. he rubbed his hands together gleefully and reached for the place where the ashes had been, but they weren't there. In its place was a package but Harry couldn't see. He strained, but the harder he tried, the more blurred the image became until it was just large blotches of blue, black and grey. The colors swirled again and- 

This time, a portrait hung in front of him. A man that he didn't recognize. The man had an austere expression and a pursed mouth. The picture, curiously enough, wasn't moving but the frame was. Carved acorns wiggled on the tree, squirrels dashed back and forth between them and a deer was striding quietly between it all. A large gold knob said "pull". Next to it, a large striped button said "push". Next to the button was a silk rose. A small engraved sign above it said "smell". He realized the whole hall was composed of such objects with inscructions like "kick", "pinch", "touch", "paint" and "scratch". But what was he supposed to do with the painting? He couldn't see a sign on it, just a few words painted on the portrait. 

All it said was, "Sir Kreaiengl Otil, Born 1845-1879", Below that was a number. "4" it said and that was all. And the face was changing, it was changing into a different person, but before he could examine it, it changed again. And again. But the words at the bottom seemed to stay the same, though different letters changed in it. 

Harry was floating gently back into conciousness, the fire flickering happily. The dream seemed to be floating at the back of his mind and soon, he didn't think about it at all. It was stored for later use, whatever that might be. 

Harry stood up and stretched; the doorbell rang. He didn't seem surprised at all, he just placed his feet in a pair of worn slippers and plodded to the front door. Upon opening it, he reached for the light switch by it and turned on the light for the doorway. There stood Professor Snape, gripping his cloak around him. 

"Come in, come in," was all Harry said. He pulled the door all the way open and Snape obliged. 

"I don't have long," was all he said, stiffly. And he slumped onto the floor, breathing heavily. 

"Well, get started." And Harry offered him the bag of marahmallows. 

--finish-- 

Well, this is the prologue. Er- yeah, it is. 100 points to anyone who figures out what the painting means... 


	2. Flight of Death 01- Portkeys and Pina Co...

A/N: *cough* Er- really don't expect me to finish all of it. To date, I have written two series and failed to finish any of them... And no one got 100 points, I'm sorry to say. The "4" and the weirdo name was all part of a very, very childish answer to it. How does Cassie do it? *moans* It would be cool though if I could pull the Hogwarts Four into it somehow... *plots evilly* And "Jun" is pronounced "June" like the month. *cough* I'm planning on putting some of my reviewers into this. Any volunteers? 

Flight of Death- Portkeys and Pina Coladas

Snape didn't take a marshmallow, he pushed the bag away with disgust. 

_Weird guy,_ thought Harry, taking back the marshmallows and eating one._ Must be insane, refusing a offer of free marshmallows..._

"I went back- and it was horrible." he said in a flat, expressionless voice. "Really horrible. Horrible. Very horrible. Just horrible. Horrible." He took a deep breath as if to calm himself and continued bravely on. "He said I was lying, that Dumbledore had sent me. And he put a curse on me." This seemed to be the hardest part for him, and he shuddered in revulsion, Harry could feel the prickles on his spine. "I'm going to die a slow, horrible death. Nothing can stop it." 

It took a while for the thought to sink in. _A slow horrible death,_ he thought, a trace of untimely humor seeping into his mind. _ Voldemort speaks in cliches, I never knew that..._ He shook himself from the thought and concentrated on the present situtation. 

"You sure? Nothing?" he asked. Snape shook his head vigorously. It was funny, back in fourth year this would have been great news. But now, he actually felt some pity, he was able to sit in the same room without thinking awful thought about ground glass, Unforgivable curses and Veritaserum. 

He took another deep, shuddering breath. "Nothing. The spell was his own creation, one he invented just for unfaithful Death Eaters, lying, cheating double-crossing Death Eaters. He said that. I think I might have a marshmallow after all. Enjoy some of the simpler things in life." 

_ There you go. Getting some sense into your head._

But Snape still wasn't done. "It's a muggle disease. Something about cows. I didn't quite understand him. He said muggles sometimes were quite helpful, that they contributed to his ideas of torture." 

That confused him. Cows... Now what disease sounded like cows? Mad cow disease, of course. But it couldn't be... There was no cure for that yet. 

"My brain cells are going to die. My brain is going to mush." In that moment, Harry could see into the past, what young Severus Snape might have sounded like. Scared, knock kneed and stuttering. It would have been quite amusing, if it hadn't been for the situation. "I don't want to die..." He moaned. 

Harry patted him awkardly on the arm. Snape still wasn't his favorite person. But in a fight against Voldemort... What had Dumbledore said? Oh yes, "We are weak as we are divided and strong as we are united." Something like that. 

Harry formulated a plan quickly. Dumbledore would be at his home in London, they could Apparate. Dumbledore could take care of him. He yawned, stretched his back and turned his head to Snape. 

"Look, we're going to Apparate to Dumbledore so he can take care of you." Harry said to him. He didn't look very surprised, perhaps lack of sleep was dulling his senses. 

"No need," Snape said, pulling out a caramel stone that had what appeared to be little rubber grips on it. "He gave me a portkey in case." Harry just wondered at the stupidity. Why hadn't he just gone to Dumbledore then? Why come to Harry? But Snape didn't notice, he was pulling the rubber grips off. 

"They're Anti-Magik Grips," He explained. "It keeps something from working magic." 

Harry's curiousity sparked at the idea. "So if I put them on a wand, it wouldn't work?" 

Snape shook his head. "No, if you wanted to do that, you need really advanced dark magic. And it would give you a hell of a time getting it off. If you want to stop a wand, besides dark magic, is a simple formula. It only works for about a hour, then it wears off." He grinned at the thought. "I invented it." 

At that moment, Snape held out the portkey. "Put your finger on it. I'm taking the last one off." He said. Harry put his finger on the stone. He pulled of the last grip. Nothing happened. 

*** 

Ginny Weasley was walking around in the dark at some ungodly hour, craving something to drink. 

Of course, the most logical place would have been the kitchen, but first she had to find it. Edward had somehow managed to find out about her nightly walks and decided for a joke to shift the rooms around. No wonder why he had been so uncommonly happy at dinner, smiling into his plate until she had gotten so annoyed that she slapped him. 

The kitchen was up ahead... Yes! There it was... But the table was empty. Another one of Edward's jokes. She had asked _pointedly_ asked him to make a couple of pina coladas and set them out onto the table. She had some sort of addiction to them... But the pina colada-less table still didn't produce a drink after she'd stared at it so Ginny settled for the orange juice that was in the fridge, half frozen and pulpy. She gulped it down and went over to the sink. 

"Fancy meeting you here," a voice drawled from behind her. The drawl wasn't as well polished as Malfoy's. Edward wasn't quite as used to it. 

"Sod off." Ginny aswered without turning around. 

"A little touchy, dear? A little annoyed about that empty table?" 

"Shut up and go away, Edward," She said his name mockingly, emphasizing it. "No one likes you besides Mum." 

"Obliviate!" He hissed from behind her. Ginny felt a sort of dizziness, then- nothing. Why was she here again? And why was the water running? 

Mechanically, she turned the tap off and turned around. A person stood there, his features obscured by the weak light. She felt a vague, pointed dislike at him, but she couldn't figure out why she wasn't happy to him. 

"Edward," She said like the name had just occurred to her. "You're Edward." 

He smiled. "Now get back to bed. Everything will be all right in the morning." 

She pattered off to bed, stubbing her toe into the table Mum had given her when she had moved away. Back then, Edward had been her best friend. She didn't know why her mother still had the illusion of being the "perfect companion for her precious daughter". Edward had been the perfect son, rather a mix of himself and Percy Weasley, making small talk about school and the weather and making Mum laugh with his wittiness. Then, Ginny had developed a strong dislike for him. Seeing his face made her want to throw up. Hearing his voice made her want to reach out and hit him. And little by little, he was no longer Edward, Ginny's friend, but Edward, Disgusting Prat. 

He was also Edward, Hermione's third cousin. And as a result, Ginny was now more close to her. But Hermione was clueless about Ginny's relationship woes. Hermione was busy all the time, mostly working on some fabulously top secret Something for the Ministry, saving lives and working complicated incantations. When she did take time out of her busy schedule for a pleasant little visit, Ginny would feel guilty about dumping her troubles on Hermione when she had seen the new shipment of wizards that had been crippled by Voldemort. 

Whatever Edward was, he was a damn nuisance. And Ginny wished he would go to whatever hole he had stashed himself in before he decided to live in the real world. She kicked the table and the leg collapsed, the glass vase on top giving her a liberal dose of cold water and flower petals. Edward's laughter rang unpleasant in the background as Ginny strode off and left the broken glass and water to be swept up and tidied in the morning. 

*** 

"Granger?" a voice said in the distance. "Granger?" 

Hermione swore and woke up. Her face had been stuck between the pages of a book (_The Studies of the Origin of Dark Magic_) and a quill was clutched in her fist. The scene was reminiscent of the time when the librarian had found her in the Hogwarts library. Jun, the auror trainer, pried the quill from her hand and handed her a steaming mug. 

"This is a Relaxing Potion. There's a couch in the next room and I find a blanket. I'm commanding you to get some rest. Tomorrow we're scheduled to take care of a bunch of novices and whip them into shape. And you know how tiring that is." 

Hermione took the cup gratefully and plodded into the adjacent room, used by visitors. It was the only room in the building that looked like it might belong in some normal wizarding home, with a few magazines (_The Quidditch Quarterly and Witch Weekly_), and a couple of newspapers, the _Daily Prophet_, mostly. 

A threadbare couch that definetly had seen better times looked inviting now. She sipped the violet liquid as a dreaminess enveloped her. She fell back onto the couch and her eyes closed. 

Jun placed an old blanket on top of her. "Poor girl," she said aloud. 

"Hermione Granger? Poor?" A masculine voice said from the doorway. "I thought she was one of those raving businesswoman in smart suits." 

"She is a raving woman in a smart suit. Did you see her at the gala the Department held? Obviously most of us are not used to putting our hair down and dressing up in something nice. Remus looked like a stodgy old man at a dinner party in those robes of his..." 

The man shushed her. "I know you're Social Fanatic but I'm not." He got misty eyed. "That shopping spree you had in sixth year- the look on your mother's face was priceless. Priceless." 

Jun pouted. "How was I supposed to know that you didn't like singing flowers? I thought they were romantic. And it was a killer deal. Two for a sickle." 

"My dear, I was teased relentlessly for two weeks because of you. I was so desperate that I wanted to do a memory charm. However, I was inconveniently reminded that there was no magic in the corridors." 

"Shut up Michael. You were just mad that I didn't buy you that Krum action figure that came out." 

"That may be true, but that doesn't make up for the fact you still owe me 5 Galleons for the Quidditch match we bet on..." 

Jun laughed. "I'm going to give a little visit to Fleur. She promised to teach me some french because a we have some aurors from France that are coming over. I don't want to stand there and say 'Bonjour' and 'Fermez la bouche' sounding like an idiot." 

"And they would also be offended by your bad manners and your awful accent. Just bring Fleur along. We don't need another scandal for the Ministry. I can see the _Daily Prophet_ headlines. 'Auror Trainer is Prosecuted For Setbacks in Foreign Affairs'." 

"I can't. Fleur is busy tomorrow with work. She says she's developing a way to see everything that's happening during a battle and give insructions to the wizards." 

"Lovely," Michael said, waving his hand. "Shouldn't you be going now? Fleur's rather nocturnal, isn't she?" 

Jun ignored him haughtily. "At least she doesn't snore like you do." 

She left to the indignant strains of "Snore? I don't snore!" 

* 

Fleur's house was in Godric's Hollow, not far from the place where Lily and James were killed. Jun noticed a few small butterflies and dragonflies flitting around the garden, even though it was winter. She rang the doorbell and she could hear wind chimes. 

Fleur had her long silvery hair down and was wearing satin robes. Jun could see traces of makeup still on a face. 

"Come in, come in," She said. Jun stepped in and looked around awkwardly. 

Work at the Ministry let her meet lots of new witches and wizards who were taking some part in the war. She had met Fleur at a conference for foreign magical people which the new minister, Ran Quillsworth, made a speech on the importance of unity. Jun had had the impression some of it was pointless because many of the people didn't speak english. 

"There was an important dinner- very, very important. Ze minister was zare... What's her name? Ran Zilchgirth?" 

"Ran Quillsworth," she corrected her. 

"Anyway, I would teach you a leetle french, but you do not need it," Fleur smiled. 

"Why?" 

"Because I 'ave developed a Translator! You just speak into it and your words come out french!" Fleur handed her a small, rectangular thing that looked like a muggle walkie talkie. 

"Thanks Fleur," she said. "Er- I don't want to bother you, er- bye!" 

"No," Fleur smiled. "You shall stay a bit and drink some tea. We can talk about that charming husband of yours, no?" 

So they both settled down on the two plush chairs after Fleur had served them tea and placed a plate of delicate cookies between them. 

"I was wondering... Could you arrange a way for me to meet 'Arry Potter?" She said it very quickly. 

Jun laughed. "No, Hermione's the one to do that. I only know him from my Ministry work. Harry looks a bit under the weather these days, after he found out Dean Thomas was killed in the war, he came in the office a nervous wreck. He's usually so heroic." She took a sip of tea. "Michael has been demanding the five Galleons I owe him. Do you have any ideas?" 

Fleur grinned. "Very easy. Make another bet." 

Jun was astonished. "I _always_ lose bets." 

"You can't lose this one. Bet 'im that you can speak perfect french." 

At this, Jun grinned, too. "Which reminds me, I need to see the back of my eyelids for a few hours before the french auror comes. What's his name? Unis?" 

"Yes, Unis. 'e doesn't have a last name. Odd man." 

Jun waved good bye from the door. Fleur waved back as Jun Apparated out of Godric's Hollow. 

--finis-- 

Yay! I *actually* finished it! Consider this a miracle. Next chapter, we will have some reviewers in the story, if you somebody gives me their first name or something. It's sort of hard to incorparate somebody named "starrydreamer" or "Unicorn Whisperer". *cough* We see a bit more Dumbledore, a lot more Remus, and a nice little bit with Raving Businesswoman in Smart Suits. Enjoy! 

A pitiful thanks section: 

glitter_girl0588- Hi! Did you like your part in the story? I'm sorry about "Michael" no offense. I couldn't resist! 

magical*little*me- Like Willy Wonka? I suppose... Oh well. Go marshmallows!! 

undefined- Thank you, thank you, thank you! Thank you! Thank you so very much! 

The Unicorn Whisperer- Incorrect, but good guess. Do _you_ want to be in the next chapter? *g* I suppose not... 

starrydreamer- Great! You enjoyed! Probaly a first! 

Leaky Cauldron- The nicest, loveliest review of them all. *g* Thank you so much!


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